Page 77 of Refrain
“Don’t you?”
He shook his head.
“One, we’re friends. Two, my boyfriend loves you, and I very much love him, and three, we’re in a band together. A band that needs you if it’s going to survive. And it needs to survive. It means too much to too many people. You’re not the only person for whom Xane Geist is a light in the dark. You know Dani got through a lot of her shitty adolescence by listening to Black Halo. She’s not alone in that. They rely on us. If our music helps even one person, isn’t that a reason to keep doing it?”
“That’s a heavy load, and my name’s dirt.”
Luthor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It really isn’t. The people who matter, they haven’t given up on you. The fans, the band, Paul, Ash… Xane… even Alle… Especially Alle. That woman is so in love with you. She’s giving Xane absolute hell.”
“I heard.”
“I thought you might have done.”
“The thing is, she’s in love with someone who doesn’t exist.”
“Oh, Spook. I think she sees you more clearly than you realise. She doesn’t think you’re perfect. She thinks you’re perfect for her. And maybe she’s right. Ever consider that?”
A cold blast of air alerted them to Xane’s return. He stepped into the kitchen, shoulders still weighed down by storm clouds. He cocked his head to one side on seeing them sitting together all cosy, beers in hand.
“Hey,” Spook ventured.
“Your girlfriend’s a nightmare,” Xane griped.
Something about his tone had both him and Luthor smirking into their beers. He said, “You’re allowed to call her a bitch, you know.”
“It’d be fair.” Luthor rose, waving his bottle at Xane as a form of question. “She’s called you a total git more than once, and some far juicier things. A fair bit of it was even deserved.”
“Forget the beer.”
Luthor returned the bottle he’d just got out to the fridge. Xane pulled a tumbler out of the cupboard. “Where’s the whisky?”
“Wherever you put it,” Spook remarked. Xane hadn’t told him to lay off the liquor, he’d just vanished it.
Xane considered, long hair like a shroud around his face. He took several meandering steps before settling on a direction and producing the latest of Spook’s distillery tour acquisitions from inside a knitted haggis.
“What? It’s a bottle cosy,” he said with a shrug.
“It’s fuck ugly,” Luthor muttered, snatching the artisanal piece to examine it more closely. He shoved his fist inside it and wore it as a puppet, which he bobbed in front of Spook’s face and made it ask, “Why did you move to a cottage out of the dark ages?”
Spook knocked it off his fist. “It was available, that’s why.” And he hadn’t been picky about the décor or anything besides it being isolated. In any case, the weird ornaments and knitted gonks reminded him of his grandmother and her collection of trolls. She didn’t knit herself, claimed she always dropped the stitches, but she’d been gifted many a knitted troll over the span of her life. He wondered, were they still there in the corner of the living room, on the bed that masqueraded as a sofa? When she’d died, the house had officially passed to him and his sisters, but they’d never done anything with it. He didn’t want it. Elin had balked. The other three had built lives elsewhere. They ought to have sold it, but they never had. Had never even set foot in the place to sort through the junk. Hell, the thought of returning to that place was so bruising, his terror must have shown on his face, because Luthor slid a finger along his chin. “Är du okej?”
He nodded, but reached for the whisky bottle Xane was holding. “Give me some of that.”
Xane produced two more glasses, which he set between the three of them, before hunching down to pour. He stayed in that position as they all sipped, seemingly poised for something.
“What?” Spook asked.
“Just waiting to have my arse handed to me over the use of the G word.”
It’d barely registered. Instead, Spook shoved him in the chest with two fingers, toppling him onto his arse, although Xane expertly managed to avoid spilling any drinks. He lay sprawled on his back for a moment before sexily propping himself up on one elbow. “Mean.”
“She’s no more my girlfriend than Dani is yours at the minute.” That could have started a row, and he knew it, but he was sick of bullshit and pussyfooting around the truth.
Tension bristled through Xane’s body, pulling the tendons in his arms and across his shoulders tight, only for him to release it with a sigh. “Sadly true.” He raised his glass, then downed the contents.
Luthor opened his arms to him, whereupon Xane cuddled up and rested his head on his shoulder. Luthor then cocked his head and offered Spook his other shoulder. The guy could have made Spook’s life a living hell—more of a living hell. Instead, he’d opened his heart. Was it any wonder that Xane adored him? Luthor was easy to love. He’d always be there, ready to wrap you in a cosy cocoon when you needed it, while still also being more than willing to screw your brains out with a deviant’s panache too.
Spook moved into the offered space and let the warmth of just being with friends envelop him. Xane and Luthor chatted about nothing in particular. Xane had picked up a host of new Swedish phrases. He’d always had a flair for languages, and just communication in general.
